


All That Glitters Is Not Gold

by solitariusvirtus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 03:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16568852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: The disappearance of Benjen Stark sets his sister in motion. But while mystery might infuse one with a will to discover, discovery is not always welcome.AU! Sometimes one's best is simply not enough.





	All That Glitters Is Not Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for our saviour Jay.

A smile played across his lips as Lyanna lifted the little girl into her arms, cooing and babbling at the plump babe. The toddler spoke back, her voice high-pitched and filled with excitement. Abandoning the pair for a moment he glanced at the proud parents. “She’s grown so much,” he noted of his granddaughter. The girl had grabbed hold of some Myrish lace edgings and was tugging on those.

“She grows like a weed,” the girl’s mother declared, eyes shining with mirth. He’d not wanted to make the journey to Dragonstone for a great many reasons. That Lyanna had prevailed upon him to do precisely so in the end and that he’d yet to feel regret over that decision helped some, he decided, looking towards his son.

Jon stared backed, something in his eyes seeming almost pleading. Rhaegar could hardly understand it though, thus he pushed the queer feeling to the side and gave a soft half-nod. At that point his firstborn climbed to his feet with a word of apology to his lady wife and to his mother. “We shall leave you to your doubtlessly fascinating subjects.” He might have, just then, denied his son’s silent request. In truth, he had little wish to leave Lyanna, even in the company of the other Lyanna, close as the two were.

Nevertheless, he acquiesced, allowing the two women to turn their attention to whatever subject struck their fancy in the absence of any husbands. They took two horses from the stables and set to riding, as far as Jon wished to. Rhaegar kept his silence throughout the duration of their journey and his son followed suit until they reached one of the few rocky limbs steady enough to hold the weight of horse and man. It was there that the subject finally arose, rearing its ugly head. If only one could block out such things.

“How is she doing, truly?” Would that he had an answer. On the other hand, he could not bear to put some platitude into words and feed that to their son as though his lady mother mended with alacrity. “They came so close one on the heels of the other that we could not help but worry. Has there truly been no word from Uncle Brandon?”

“Not that we’ve been made aware of.” He quite agreed that Benjen Stark’s disappearance had aided in Lyanna’s response to their daughter’s death. While it had never been easy to see smaller urns placed amid the greater ones, his wife had always, without fail, done her best to drag them both out of their misery. “She seems more herself holding Florys than she has in a long time, but even so I still worry.” He was glad Jon did his best to avoid the greater of the wounds. Benjen was, after all, an experienced ranger and his absence had more than one explanation.

“She could stay with us for a time. Lya could do with a helping hand and she might benefit from the distance.” The thought gave him pause by the very response it elicited. His frown must have been telling for Jon hurriedly added, “Father, King’s Landing imposes too much upon her.”

He sighed. “I cannot stay here with her.”  And he could not leave her with an easy heart either. “Give me some time to consider your suggestion.” The truth of it concerned his reluctance to be parted from Lyanna. He’d known, seeing her in those stables weapon in hand, berating three quivering squires, that she would come to play a very important role in his plans. He simply hadn’t known how important.

Might be Jon had the right of it. Might be taking on Florys and spending some time with her firstborn would settle Lyanna some.  One could but hope. They returned within the walls of the keep, leaving the horses to capable hands. It was still some time before they were to dine, thus Jon excused himself to see to some matters of import and left Rhaegar to his own devices, which naturally carried him to the bedchamber Lyanna had insisted they share.

His wife was abed when he entered. She did not sleep, her eyes, wide-open, were trained upon the ceiling, unblinking. He approached cautiously but she did not shift her attention to him. At times he wondered whether she heard him when in such a state. But she must, he reasoned, for she never seemed truly surprised to see him next to her. Or might be she simply expected his presence from habit. He would fulfil her expectations either way.

The mattress dipped under the added weight. He lied on his side so as to better watch her. Lyanna breathed evenly, the rise and fall of her chest soothing in its own way. She was the one to break the silence. At least that would never truly change. “It feels strange to not be sleeping in our bed.”

“The keep has a new lord,” he answered softly, his agreement an implied thing. The short distance between them was shattered with a minute movement on her part. “Small chambers warm with greater ease besides.” The small fire burning in the grate attested to that. Their fingers interlaced. She closed her eyes, humming softly. He could not determine the meaning of the sounds but left her to it, knowing she would return to the conversation when she wished it.

“Rhaegar,” she called after an indeterminate amount of time, tugging on his hand so as to assure herself that she had his attention. Facing him, she finally put into words whatever grief pressed her so. “I do not think there will be other children.” The words dropped between them. He’d suspected as much. The good masters had been warning of that when they failed to conceive time and again after Daenora’s birth. “I wanted,” she trailed off. “I want Daenora back.” It was a mere whisper.

Would the pain have been lesser had she not known Daenora as well as she had? “Would you like to remain here?” He felt her snap to attention, fingers squeezing him almost painfully. The bite of her nails was swift to come as well. A gust of wind rattled the shutters, their clattering playing over the silence which followed his question.

“Without you.” It was not so much a question as an observation, that which she made when the rude interruption ceased. Rhaegar nodded gently, cautiously even. “But my place is at your side.” Confusion suffused her expression. “And yours is at mine. Or do you no longer hold by those vows?”

He bit his tongue against the first response which came to him and forced himself to explain the matter. “We were happy here. Once.” It had been their home for many years. The walls held precious memories, storing the joys of their early marriage, before many ills fell upon them.

He’d been right to exercise caution. “Together. We were happy together.” The last word she stressed with such strength that its punch was a solid thing. She sat up, her hair falling forth like a curtain as she leaned slightly over him.

“The court is not a place that gives one much time for one’s won needs. I would have you rest. Take some time for yourself without having to worry about the game.” She shook her head. “Aemma and Elaena may join you. Both would benefit from some time away as well. It would be good for them. For you; all of you.”

“Stay with us then. You have just as much right to rest,” Lyanna urged, her lips falling into a troubled frown.

“I cannot. The realm needs me.” What was he doing? She did not wish to stay. He could bring her back with him with a light heart. Except that he truly could not; Lyanna was not well and King’s Landing would only exacerbate her troubles.

“Send your son.” In spite of his obvious Stark colouring, Lyanna had ever referred to Jon as his son. “He is old enough, wise enough even. He has had the best teacher he ever could have hoped for.” And so he had. His namesake, the name they’d gifted him with at birth, had passed away some long winters past, but the boy’s long stay with the Night’s Watch had served him in good stead.

“I will stay until the turn is past,” he told her after brief consideration. Disappointment flickered upon her face. “He is just now father for the first time. Allow him to enjoy it.” He recalled the first time he’d ever held his own child. “It would be cruel to deny him.”

“You are my husband, and if it is your will that I stay, then I shall not argue.” He did not make the mistake of thinking he’d won for he perceived many an argument would be had upon the topic before his allotted time was past.  And he would have to somehow convince both her and himself that it was best she remained on Dragonstone. “How long am I expected to stay here?”

“As long as necessary.” She huffed at that and lowered herself back upon the mattress, rolling over until her back was turned to him. She would see the wisdom of his decision soon enough. He hoped.

* * *

 

He woke to emptiness beside him. The weak light from the grate flickered to and fro, fading gently before it had managed to produce enough light for searching eyes. Nonetheless, Rhaegar knew the keep well enough and knew his wife likewise. Thus he abandoned his place for the invigoratingly cool floors of the bedchamber and then for twisting halls.

As expected, Lyanna had made for the one place of interest within the keep. Rhaegar found her leaning over the crib. A sleepy wetnurse was doing her best to keep her company, not that Lyanna paid the woman any mind. At his intrusion, however, she more than looked. Her eyes narrowed, a sign that she’d not yet to forgive his earlier suggestion. Nonetheless, she came along at his request with nary a protest, returning to their bedchamber in silence.

“I do not understand.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Tell me how I am wrong.” His request was met with a glare. “Lyanna, tell me how I am wrong.”

“I doubt I’ve enough years,” she managed haltingly, clearly a lot more put out than he had anticipated. While it felt exceedingly heartening that her usual assertive self had come forth in full force, Rhaegar was not conflict-inclined in the least. “I am not staying here.”

“Why not?” Instead of answering, she sat herself in a chair before the dying embers of a bygone fire. She hugged herself, staring into the grate as though such an action would encourage him to cease. But then he wasn’t nearly anywhere ready enough to give up. “Just because I will not be here. We’ve been apart before.”

“Not like this,” she protested. He held back from prodding. It would accomplish little in any case. He used the time, instead, in order to sit by her side. “Never in my life have I felt so powerless. I’ve always known my limits; that there are some things that are beyond my reach. I can accept that.” She drew in a sharp breath. “You are not one of those; and I do not want to relinquish my hold.”        

“And it is not enough that I stay until the turn is past?” She glanced at him, lips trembling as though in an attempt to contain words. But in the end she merely shook her head, taking long moment to compose herself before she finally managed to give a sensible answer.

“It would not eat at me so if it were to simply be days. I could cope with your absence if only I knew you’d return by my side. ‘Tis been difficult to bridge the distance between us as is. I would not have it deepen with long absences.” He considered her words at length, relieved when she reached out to him. “You don’t need to carry all the weight on your shoulders alone.”

“It never felt as though I was alone.” Such matters in which he could not act her shield left him not a little disturbed.

“Lonely,” she said, not giving him the chance to continue.

“I beg your pardon?” It was a question that hardly needed asking.

“You’ve been lonely. Don’t try to deny it.” She knew him too well. “Send Jon to King’s Landing, and let us travel the length of the realm if you would have me rest. You may acquaintance yourself more intimately with the needs of the kingdoms, so you mustn’t feel as though you are not doing your duty.”

“Love is the death of duty,” Jon commented softly, his smile widening slightly. Florys, her father’s daughter at the core, snuggled into his shoulder murmuring contentedly, not far off from falling into slumber. “But why would you hesitate, father? That is what I do not understand. It would not be a hardship for me to make for King’s Landing.”

“I would not have left Dragonstone, had my sire asked it of me, when you were a child. Certainly not for the length of time it would take for the man to travel the kingdoms.” It was, after all, a matter of many a turn, lengthened exponentially by the need to give one’s attention to various problems.

“I suppose I ought to be glad there is no war or any other such reason which might forcibly take me from my home. As for this request, I shall fulfil it gladly.” His son lifted the babe slightly, better positioning the infant so she might sleep comfortably. “I cannot say I am surprised at this outcome.”

“Pray, what mean you by such words?” Jon rarely commented upon the nature of the bond between hum and Lyanna. To hear him openly reference it was cause for some curiosity. And it was also a chance to learn what it was that his wife had shared with their son.

Jon did not disappoint. “It strikes mother that this journey of yours will ultimately end in Winterfell. There, of course, she may press her brother into expanding his efforts of finding Uncle Benjen. You see, mother finds that she cannot sit still in these circumstances and if Daenora is not be restored and she may find no comfort in her home, than she might as well take the time to solve the matter of uncle’s absence.”

 

* * *

 

“And what think you of this plan of hers?” Rhaegar urged, moving to take the sleeping Florys from her father so he might finally begin working on the many documents covering his desk. The girl did not wake, but settled against him, the familiar weight reminiscent of bygone days when his own children has used him as a pillow to rest their weary heads upon. Daenora, in particular, had been quite attached to climbing into his lap for an afternoon nap whenever she managed to escape her septa. His throat constricted, blocking words and air alike.

Jon picked a parchment seemingly at random, eyeing the neat script with vague consternation. “I think lady mother is a rather strong-willed woman who shan’t be dissuaded. It would be a pity to create a rift now for such a small request. After all, Uncle Brandon will give in and before long we’ll have an answer regarding Uncle Benjen. Aside from which, Uncle Ned will be there as well and ground the whole situation.”

“You are saying I should just give in?” He wondered briefly about Jon’s Lyanna and her will which surpassed even his wife’s. Might be Jon simply found it more comfortable to simply humour her. It could certainly be the case if the woman played her cards right.

“It would certainly solve a great part of this current conflict. Mother shan’t be satisfied until she has had her say in this matter. The quicker she may do so, the quicker she will settle into whatever the outcome is.” Jon paused in his reading long enough to make certain Florys remained undisturbed by the volume their conversation was held at. “Hesitation wins one nothing, Your Majesty, as you well know.”

“Your lady wife will not feel your absence most keenly?” he questioned, not entirely certain he wished to delve into his own reasoning at that point. Or at any other point, he reckoned.

“I doubt she’ll have the chance.” Already having moved to another document, Jon clarified his statement with utmost seriousness. “Lyanna would likely board a ship and follow along irrespective of whether I allowed it or not. As matters stand, I should rather prefer having her within my line of sight.” A small chuckle left his throat. “And to be perfectly honest, I would not have left were I not able to take both her and our daughter with me. King’s Landing will be a nice change, I am certain and Lyanna will be only too happy to take courtiers to task. Dragonstone provides only too little for her to do.”

“She does not seem the sort of women comfortable with a lack of activity,” he offered. Rhaegar had not been particularly close to his good-daughter. That had been more his wife’s interest. He had simply been satisfied with the knowledge that the pair got along well enough to continue the line and more so when his granddaughter had appeared. A son would follow at some point, as was often the case.

“Mother was the same, I recall. It used to be on couldn’t go the day without hearing of some improvement or another. In faith, I sometimes fear my Lyanna will drive the servants mad. That and she hasn’t yet acquired that polish mother possesses in abundance.” Though the words were somewhat lacking in grace, Jon did speak them with a tone underlined with fondness. Clearly, it was not something which bothered him in the least. Rhaegar tried recalling the last time he’d been so carefree about Lyanna and her position and realised he could not. But then, Jon was not the product of the same circumstances driving him and his marriage was likewise a different manner of conjugal bond. “However did you manage to get her to settle?”

“I had little to do with it. Lyanna does mostly as she pleases. It just so happens our goals are compatible, if not downright the same by and large.” Jon nodded understandingly. Rhaegar did not allow the silence to endure.“Do you believe Benjen has simply been detained by some unforeseen situation?”

“From what I know, he is skilled enough to extricate himself from most situations which call for it. But then those beyond the Wall are a hardy lot. I do not know what to say beyond that I hope he is not injured or suffering.”  


End file.
